In the forest, dark and deep, do not wander, do not sleep
Ancient phantoms guard the land, their sacred magic close at hand
On this night, the witch’s lair is visited by those that have no care
For the afterlife and what lies beyond this mortal world of which they’re so fond
She stirs the caldron with willow root, a heady potion of bat and newt
The stench it wreaks fills up the air, to catch the breeze and waft down there
Towards the village, town and street and raise the unwitting to their feet
Then once entranced they all do roam … zombie-like towards her home
She cackles loud and rubs her hands, they come from far across the lands
Unknown to them their fate now sealed, their mortal soul they will concede
The dead return with a banshee cry to repossess those standing by
For on this day the veil is thin, between the living and the world of sin
Many steps by many souls, taken as this night unfolds
Condemns them to haunt this mortal coil, amongst the human life of toil
Undead but living, ghost’s unseen, consigned to limbo and the in-between
Or could this all be make-believe …
To scare the children on All Hallows Eve